More Than Willing
by Runsoirse
Summary: '"Let's say you're in a bar, and I'm the hot woman who really likes what she sees."  Dean told himself he had to be imagining the way Castiel's cheeks seemed to turn pink at his words; angels, after all, didn't blush.'


**More Than Willing**

**A/N: As we all know, Dean is so oblivious and often kind of stupid...**

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><p>"Dean," Castiel began, staring at his clasped hands as he sat leaning forward on the chair in the hotel room, "can I ask you something?"<p>

"Sure thing, Cas." Dean looked up at his friend over the top of his laptop and grinned. "Ask away."

Castiel rubbed his palms together, still not looking up. "It's a rather...personal question."

Dean closed his laptop and laid it aside, sliding forward to sit on the end of the bed. He looked seriously at Castiel. "Well, if you're as likely to die tomorrow as you say...well, I might as well answer any questions you have."

Castiel laced his fingers together and shuffled his feet slightly. "The first time you had sex, did you pay the other person?"

"What? No, of course not!" Dean was too shocked to realize why Castiel would ask such a question. "We were both sixteen, and she was _more_ than willing. I was hot, even back then." He grinned cockily.

Castiel leaned back slightly in the chair and stared at the dull paint on the wall. "Earlier tonight, when you said you didn't want me to die a virgin, why did you tell me to pay someone to have sex with me? Am I not what anyone could consider 'hot'?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut. Yikes. He looked pointedly at the angel. "No, Cas, that's not why...Cas, I'm sure there are _many_ women who would find you _smokin_' hot. The whorehouse, well, it was just more...convenient. I didn't mean..." he sighed, pushing his fingers though his hair, then continued, "to insult you, or anything like that."

Castiel finally looked at Dean, his mostly impassive features somehow conveying a sense of a slight smile. "So if I were to do what you usually do...try to 'pick up' someone in a bar, you believe I would be successful?"

"It all depends on what you say to them...and in your case, it might be best to say as little as possible." Dean smirked, remembering the hilariously over-the-top fit the prostitute had thrown over Castiel's words. "Maybe you'd get really lucky and find a woman who'd try to pick _you_ up." He nodded at the angel appraising. "I could definitely see that happening."

"Women do that?"

Dean nodded. "Some do. Especially when they _really_ like what they see."

Castiel looked away nervously. "I still wouldn't know what to say."

"It's not that hard." Dean stood to his feet. "Let's say you're in a bar, and I'm the hot woman who _really_ likes what she sees." Dean told himself he had to be imagining the way Castiel's cheeks seemed to turn pink at his words; angels, after all, didn't blush. Pushing those thoughts aside, he took a step towards where Castiel sat. "I approach you and say," he put on his best impersonation of a 'sexy female' voice, "'Hey handsome, come here often?'".

Castiel stared at him wide-eyed. "This is the first time I have come here."

Dean grinned. "Of course, I know that, because I come here all the time, so then I say, 'Must be, I don't think I could forget a face as pretty as yours.'" Dean theatrically batted his eye lashes. "'Mind if I join you?'" He indicated the second chair beside the small hotel table.

Castiel shook his head once, his eyes still wide. Dean sat, crossing his arms on the table and leaning towards Castiel. He continued to affect the 'sexy female' voice, "'I don't think I've ever seen anyone with such beautiful blue eyes—I could stare into them all night.'" Dean reached out and took one of Castiel's hands, giving it a squeeze and stroking his thumb across the back of it. "'What do you say you and I go some place a bit more private, and I stare into those lovely eyes _all night_?'"

Castiel's eyes flickered several times between their joined hands and Dean's face. "At this point," Dean explained helpfully, "pretty much all you'd have to say is, 'yes'."

Castiel's eyes grew wider as he stared at Dean. "Yes?" he whispered.

Dean grinned. He really was enjoying this. "So then I'd take you someplace, maybe my home or maybe a hotel room much like this one." He stood and pulled Castiel to his feet with an encouraging tug on his hand that he still held clasped in his own. "And because you are _so_..._damn_..._hot_..." Dean's breath was coming rather quickly, but hey, he was getting into the role. "I'd shove you up against the wall, and—" Castiel's back was pressed against the wall and Dean could feel the heat from Castiel's body where they touched from thigh to chest. Dean's face was very nearly touching Castiel's, and he could feel the damp heat of Castiel's breath on his lips.

"Dean!" Castiel's voice sounded strangled. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and he was staring at Dean's face like a man wandering in the desert might stare at an oasis: with a desperate mixture of agonized anticipation and helpless disbelief. Where his chest pressed against the angel's, Dean could feel Castiel's heart beating fiercely, as though trying to break free. Castiel's entire body was tense as a drawn bowstring.

The moments it took Dean's conscious mind to realize that he was physically pressing Castiel against the wall with his whole body and that he had just called Castiel "so damn hot" seemed to stretch out, the time between his own breaths seeming unnaturally long. What could have possessed Dean to say such a thing to another guy? To Cas of all people? But, role play or no role play, he had meant it. God help him, he _knew_ he had meant it. He stepped back nervously, putting space between their bodies, but keeping his hands on Castiel's shoulders. "Cas?" His voice sounded scared and confused to his own ears. He shook his head and blinked several times.

Castiel looked as though he were on the verge of tears. "Please, Dean. Please..." he gasped brokenly.

Dean wasn't sure he knew what Castiel was asking for. He wasn't sure _Castiel_ knew what Castiel was asking for. And somehow, despite rather vocal and violent parts of his mind demanding that he do nothing other than _run away this very minute and never look back_, somehow, he was standing still and speaking, his voice gruff yet gentle, "Cas, I'm sorry—I'm, apparently, an idiot. But, look, okay? I'm me now; I'm not pretending anymore. Understand?"

Castiel nodded, but his face belied the action by conveying perhaps even more confusion than before. The world seemed to be swirling around Dean, everything somehow detached and surreal, as he leaned in hesitantly and gently brushed his lips over Castiel's. The shudder that passed though Castiel's body in response was both surprising and encouraging. So was the way Castiel's lips responded to his own, kissing back in a way that was somehow both hesitant an enthusiastic at the same time.

When he pulled back again to look at Castiel's face once more, Castiel looked back at Dean with wide, innocent eyes. "Do you—you really think I'm 'hot'?" Castiel asked, his voice quiet and slightly awed.

"Damn right, I do," Dean answered gruffly. "And if, well, if you are too, then I am _more_ than willing."

This time, there was no mistaking it: Castiel was blushing. Castiel nodded slightly. "Yes," he whispered, his hands coming up to clutch at Dean's shirt as his lips met Dean's once more, this time in a passionate open-mouthed kiss.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, I hope you liked it. (I have had the basic idea for this fic swirling around in my brain for _months_.)  
><strong>


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